A Little Bit More
by AnimeCountDown
Summary: Turns out, life is a little more important than what high school makes it out to be. Oneshot. SaiXSakura. Warning: Modern.


Opening scene: waves of mindless teens course through the linoleum-lined halls of the largest high school for miles. It's obnoxiously clear the school is a high-end facility, with the fashionably dressed students, state-of-the-art technology, and pristine classrooms. The buzz of chatter thrums in the air, filling ears until nothing else might fit for the rest of the day. Until three o' clock, of course, when the prisoners are released and let run about to stuff their brains with much the same cumbersome nonsense as before. Here is where the story begins.

Act 1, Scene 1, of my pitiful life here at Konoha High School.

Exposition: I'm an outcast, nobody likes me, I hate my life, and you pretty much know the rest. My only boyfriend lasted three hours because he was stolen by my best friend out of bitter jealousy, and well, because she's hotter. People make fun of me because it's easy: wrong clothes, wrong attitude, and _definitely _the wrong hair. But you already know this story. Such is high school. It's a pyramid, a food chain, and _somebody_ has to be on the bottom.

Just wait a second, though, because that's not what my story is about, since I know you've heard it all before. Tragic beginnings, overdone and exaggerated middle, and a happy ending, because happiness makes the fairy tale, makes it worth telling. But I can assure you right now: I'm not the victim in this story. Hell, I'm not even the good guy, because in high school, there are no good or bad guys. Right and wrong? Sure. But everyone always thinks themselves to be the good guys in high school. Everyone feels justified to their angst or hormones or whatever it is their issue happens to be. All that crap you see on TV about evil prom queens and badass biker kids and the misunderstood drama freaks is really just a load of bull cranked out by directors and producers who felt sorry for themselves all throughout high school because they were labeled as the geeks and losers.

If the story you want is full of soppy monologues about not fitting in or dramatic climaxes in which the queen bitch is taken down by the class weirdo, then my story is not the story for you. My story is more like how it really happens. It's the tale of a person with nothing, who meets this guy, and discovers that life is about just a tiny bit more than what people make high school out to be.

Just a little bit more.

* * *

><p>My favorite class was always English during my senior year. Mostly because Mr. Hatake - or as I'll be referring to him in this story, Kakashi - always has his nose buried in one kinky novel or another that he always half-heartedly pretends to hide behind some classic like Thoreau or Hawthorne. We would copy some notes, and then he'd give us an assignment to work on relating to the book we were reading at the time and work on our own for the rest of the class period. Of course, students "working on their own" always turned into pairs and then groups, but I liked keeping to myself at the front of the classroom, at the desk closest to Kakashi's.. I always sit at the front. Otherwise, I never pay attention, and besides, when you have nobody to impress, being the teacher's pet is really the best path a high school student can take. Just a word of advice.<p>

Modesty aside, my teachers always adore me. Probably because I'm quiet and smart and keep them company when the rest of the class is threatening to tear their sanity apart. But Kakshi and I had a special relationship. He let me be late, and I kept my mouth shut about the perverted sex books hidden under his desk. I helped him grade homework, and he shared his lunch with me. It was a comfortable lifestyle.

So, I guess what I'm saying is that British Literature, or otherwise known as English IV, was always one of the most memorable classes for me. In a good way, at least. I was safe in that class. Kakashi is one of those teachers who doesn't give a damn if his students don't like him. He's no stranger to detention slips and loves tossing kids out the door to the principal's office the second defiance rears its head. So, that's also to say, I was inevitably free of my tormentors in this class. One time, Kiba Inuzuka thought it'd be funny to use the back of my head as a target board for spit ball practice. He got sent out before he could even fire one.

Lucky me.

There were other good things about that class, too, like the work. I'm a real sucker for reading and writing, or schoolwork in general. Kakashi liked assigning big projects that required little of his ability to teach and were easy enough to grade by a quick glance. They kept me busy, kept my mind working up new ways to express the symbolism and literary techniques in each book we were assigned. I was never bored in that class.

But you see, whenever Kakashi was gone, that class was always the worst of the day. A substitute was always a bad omen. The first time Kakashi had a sub filling in for him, I couldn't find my homework. I had put it right where I always filed it, but it was somehow mysteriously gone. I got a zero until Kakashi came back the next day and let me make it up.

But it didn't stop there. And they only got worse. Another time, the substitute teacher spilled his coffee in my lap. No, I have no idea how the hell he managed it, and yes, it _was _indeed hot. Then someone _accidentally_ pushed me out the window into a rose bush. Did I mention Kakashi is on the second floor? The next time he was absent, the outlet next to my desk sparked and caught my book bag on fire.

And remember that boy I told you about in the beginning? Turns out, he came on a sub day, too.

* * *

><p>His name is Sai.<p>

I remember noticing a lot of things about him that first morning. It was an awkward process, since Kakashi wasn't there to sort out the new roll call sheet and decide where he would sit or what he would do for the day, since we were already in the middle of a big assignment. While the sub and the new kid spoke, I couldn't help but notice a couple things about him.

The first thing everyone notices about Sai is that he's quite attractive. Attractive, but pale. I wouldn't find out why until later, but Sai has an ashen skin tone, a sort of gray pallor unlike the typical "pale" person. I never thought he looked sickly, though. He's still very good-looking despite the odd skin tone, with short jet black hair and inky black eyes that gleam darkly in the light. He's tall and slender, and that first day, I remember exactly what he was wearing. A skin-tight solid black tee and a form-fitting cropped jacket lined with red, skinny jeans and combat boots that laced tight around his ankles.

Anyone would have been enraptured by him.

The substitute gave up trying to find an empty seat for him and had him sit at Kakashi's desk for the day, right beside me. Apparently, Kakashi leaves a note for all his substitutes telling them to leave all errands to the teacher assistant. And apparently, Kakashi designated me to be the teacher assistant. So, the substitute told me to explain the class assignments to the new guy.

He wasn't very interested in anything I had to tell him. I tried, of course, to give him my copy of our book, _Robinson Crusoe_. He spared me a few moments, but hardly responded to anything I said, and finally I gave up when he turned his attention fully to the notebook in his hands. After a while, I became too curious to ignore the scratching of his pencil any longer. Unable to focus on my own work, I peeked over at what he was so fixated on to discover that what he held was not a notebook but a sketchbook, opened to a page half-full of lines and smears and swirls. It was a sketch, one he had done in just twenty minutes. It wasn't completely finished, but it was an image I'd seen a hundred times, one I would recognize anywhere, one that snared my heart and twisted my breath into bits.

It was me.

* * *

><p>I had another class with him. I found him sitting across the room in my art class. I'm a technical, scientific, logical person who likes the boring stuff. Creative expression is great, but it's never exactly been for me. Every student is required to take an arts class in my school, though. Out of all the theatre and music classes, most of them would have been unbearable. I figured art would be easy enough as long as I put some effort into my work.<p>

I wasn't the best artist, but my efforts did get me an A in the class. Of course, I shouldn't have been surprised to see Sai in there after I'd seen the sketch he'd been drawing earlier in English. I hadn't had the heart to confront him about it lest I make a scene. But after a couple hours, it was just driving me crazy. I wanted to sit by him, talk to him, watch him draw.

Of course, he didn't seem interested. For days, _weeks_, I watched Sai slowly settle into Konoha and make a name for himself. He would have fit in with the popular crowd if he wasn't so reserved, what with his good looks and daring style. I saw Ino Yamanaka, my ex-best friend, try to snag his attention a few times, but it never really worked.

My next guess was that he'd be grouped with the artists. His talents were certainly enough to earn him a place in the showroom within a few days. Our art teacher adored him, scooped him up, and had him doing one extra project after another. Sai went from being the new kid to the art prodigy. But he still kept to himself, even with all the art geeks opening their arms to him so greedily. He was too dark, too quiet, even for them.

So then the scene kids took an interest. There were as many of these at Konoha as there were preps, and they thrived on the dark and unusual, especially if it came in pretty packaging. Believe it or not, scene and preps are equally matched in terms of shallowness. They leapt all over him, but he rejected them, too.

I heard whispers of bitter resentment drifting through Konoha riding his name. He was an ass for being so stuck up. He thought he was too good for everyone else. He kept to himself and was content with that - it pissed people off. But art class opened my eyes.

* * *

><p>I felt brave enough to sit by him when we were given an assignment requiring a partner. The assignment would last for the remainder of the semester - a good two months that led right up to the start of Christmas break. What we had to do was simple. Using our partner as a model, draw three versions of art: realism, abstract, and another of our choice.<p>

When I sat myself lightly onto the seat beside him, placing my books precariously on the table we were at, he turned his ink-colored eyes on me. He looked neither surprised nor annoyed nor particularly happy. There was no emotion in his eyes.

"Are you my partner then?" he asked, in a way that told me it wasn't really a question. Those eyes locked me in place, made me tremble.

"Yes," I said, clenching my fingers around my sketchbook. "You already have practice drawing me, anyway."

"What makes you think I want to draw you again?" he asked, no emotion daring to tread on his face. So serious, without anything to betray his perfect stoicism, he didn't even look bothered by what I had said. That I had noticed.

"Well…maybe you could paint me," I suggested, fighting back the familiar thickness that stifled my throat. I know that feeling well, and recognized it immediately. I could feel my eyes begin to water - he was rejecting _me _as well.

But he didn't reply to me right away. I brought myself to look at him to find him watching me blankly. I would recognize that now as him contemplating, but then, I thought it was a deadpan look of disgust. My tears began to leak from my eyes. I almost turned away, still struggling to push back the tears.

"Okay," Sai confirmed, abrupt and sudden, as he often does when he comes to a conclusion. I felt like ice water had been splashed in my face.

"W-what?" I breathed, disbelieving. He looked at me again, eyes cold and distant.

"I said I will paint you," he told me, and then closed his eyes and gave me the sweetest smile.

It was so obvious it was fake.

* * *

><p>That's how I managed to get Sai to spend time with me. Every day after school, we would meet in the student parking lot and Sai would drive us to his house. Sai has a nice car, a Nissan Altima with tinted windows and leather interior. I was a little intimidated at first, by the classy, chic car, but it's glossy perfection has come to make me think fondly of Sai - they suit each other quite nicely.<p>

His house, though, was always a bit disconcerting. It's large and impersonal, with pristine furniture and bare walls, empty shelves, and an unending silence that drives me mad. He led me inside without the slightest hesitation or awkwardness, showing me to a room that made me feel like Lucy taking her first magical trip into Narnia.

Sai's art room is organized and neat, not cluttered like your typical artist's work space, but it isn't dull at all. There are canvases and papers everywhere. In stacks on the floor, leaning on the walls, hanging up, and nailed to the ceiling. He's worked with some of everything. Pencil, ink, watercolors, acrylics, pastels, chalk, charcoal - everything. Bottles and tubes and boxes fill shelves to the brim. Brushes for both paint and ink, easles, and empty books wait in every corner.

"Oh my god!" was my initial reaction. I was mind-blown, staring in awe at everything displayed before me. "Sai, this is amazing!"

He hardly glanced over his shoulder at me as I exclaimed over one piece of art after another. He was busy rummaging through supplies; since his collection of them was so extensive, I assumed he was just being picky about what to use. I wasn't really paying attention, distracted as I was.

"I won't be painting you in here," he told me as I was ogling over one of his sketches of a Chinese dragon, one so real it still scares the hell out of me. I turned to him, feeling genuinely shy for the first time in a long while. "I'm going to be doing realism first, so I need better lighting to help me focus on detail."

I quietly agreed and reluctantly left the colorful world of his art room, into one of the many white empty corridors that was the rest of Sai's house.

* * *

><p>He decided to use the living room, which is an enormous, high-ceilinged room at the back of his house that practically glows because it's so white. As spacious and modernly fashionable as it is, it's probably my least favorite room in the whole house.<p>

"I want you to sit, stand, or lie down in a position you find most natural," he said, throwing a large white tarp across the floor. He noticed I wasn't moving by the time he was laying out all his paints. "Are you going to stand like that? It looks uncomfortable."

"Just…sit anywhere?" I asked, still intimidated by the vast room. It was so clean, I didn't want to touch anything.

"That's what I said, yes," he answered, in that way of his. Snide comments spoken with no intentional malice. I shifted where I stood as he straightened and looked at me. "You aren't very bright, are you?"

One thing you might know about my by now is that I was a pretty awkward and shy person when I met Sai. But there are certain things that set me off, even then. I become an entirely different person. Confident, angry, a complete bitch. Calling me dumb?

"I am _not_ stupid," I hissed, giving him my best death glare. Usually, it scares the piss out of people. But Sai just smiled.

"Then don't act like it," he said, so nicely it made me want to slap him in the face. It was the first time I wanted to smack that fake ass smirk right off him.

It was the moment I began to hate that smile.

* * *

><p>Our encounters thereafter were more or less the same as the first. Every day, Sai would have me sit, and he would start where he left off. He would insult me without really meaning to or particularly caring about what he said. I would get angry, and I would even start yelling at him on occasion. But the most I ever got in response was a blank stare or a fake smile.<p>

After a while, I began to worry about my half of the project. I didn't know how far along Sai was by then - probably after a week - and he would never let me see his work in progress. I still had to create a picture of him. Three, actually, and I hadn't even started.

At this point, I was worried to ask him anything because of how mean he could be. He made me cry on a daily basis - not that that was every a very hard thing to do. I'm engineered to cry about everything, regardless of how I'm feeling.

"I still need to draw you," I said one day as I sank into my regular spot. It was quite comfortable, sitting on the floor, leaning back against the spongy white couch. I lay my head down, letting my hair spill out around my head on the cushion.

"Then draw me," he responded easily, beginning where he'd left off as smoothly as though he'd never stopped.

"Do I get the same treatment?" I scoffed, knowing he was about to be an ass again. I don't know why I kept taking his crap. He's just always been that special. "Are you going to sit in one spot for me for hours without moving?"

"If you'd like me to," he replied, and I can remember my surprise. My head snapped up so quick it hurt.

"Really?"

"Don't move," he reminded me, but when I didn't put my head back down, he paused and looked at me. "You're surprised."

"Well, yeah. You're a total ass," I told him, to which he responded with the first genuine portrayal of emotion I had ever seen: confusion.

It was a short-lived moment of elation for me, because in another second, the look was gone and he once again had that deadpanned look on his face.

"How?" he asked, setting his canvas in his lap and leaning back on his hands.

"Well…" I didn't know where to begin without being rude. Not like it mattered. Sai was totally lost at this point. He had no feelings to hurt. "I mean, you don't really care about anything. You insult me all the time, you know."

"I'm just being honest," he said, as innocently unaware as a child.

"Being honest is fine, but sometimes you forget to filter stuff," I said, sighing when he merely blinked. "Look, if someone's ugly, you don't tell them that just because it's true. You're just going to end up hurting their feelings."

"So you'd want me to lie to you and call you beautiful?" Sai asked, tilting his head, as if he was really absorbing this in.

"Well, no, but…" I trailed off mid-sentence, registering what he had implied. I blinked at him and then frowned. "Did you just call me ugly?"

He didn't reply for a moment before giving me that fake smile again.

"Of course not," he said, and I could hear the sarcasm, the lie in his voice. To him, he was obediently, ironically taking my advice. I bit my tongue so hard blood began to well at my teeth, but it at least kept the tears from escaping my eyelids. Angry, I pushed myself from the couch.

"Fuck you," I snapped, before grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder. He said nothing as I left his house. He didn't try to console me, nor stop me, nor did he laugh. He didn't even offer me a ride home. He just let me leave.

* * *

><p>Thus was my relationship with Sai.<p>

He held true to his words, though, and as soon as he completed his first painting of me, we set up a day for him to model for me. Of course, it was awkward for me at first. I said before I'm not an artist. I simply didn't know where to start. After a few hesitant scratches and some angry scribbles, I finally found a good start.

I started with his hair, since it was smooth and simplistically shaped. I carried down to his head, then his neck, focusing on a basic, light outline of his body first. To me, drawing came like geometric shapes and proportionate angles. I simply drew what I saw.

I managed to get a lot of my sketch done that day. Around seven o' clock, all I had left was some shading, a few facial details, and his hands and feet. It made me wonder why it had taken Sai so long to finish one painting of me. Granted, his ended up being much more detailed and mine was merely a sketch, whereas his was entirely painted.

Drawing Sai was an enlightening experience, too. I noticed all the physical features about him I'd overlooked despite my months of watching him. His slightly long neck, the hard and slender curves of his abdomen, the cowlicks that flicked across his face. He chose scant clothing that first day I drew him. Skinny jeans, those high black boots, and a midriff shirt that exposed everything below his ribs.

When we'd first arrived at his house, and he'd removed his jacket to reveal what he had on underneath, I was momentarily stupefied. He had a gorgeous body. Defined but slender, muscled but thin. I had to resist the urge to touch him. I wanted to. Badly.

As we were cleaning up, though, I found the courage to ask.

"Why do you dress like that?" I blurted, managing to captured a brief look of surprise on his face before it deadpanned again. "I mean, you act like you don't care about anything, yet you have such a particular style of clothing."

"Style?" he repeated blankly before shaking his head and turning his attention back to his work. "No, these are merely the clothes I'm given."

"Your parents buy your clothes?" I questioned, very, for obvious reasons, disbelieving.

But that's when I saw it. The darkening of his eyes and the way all his muscles locked up at once. He bowed his head, until his hair and the shadow it cast obscured the top half of his face. He looked…deadly, dark…furious. Slowly, he amended my statement.

"My caretaker, yes."

* * *

><p>After this conversation, I felt increasingly awkward around Sai. He acted as aloof and apathetic as he always had, but I couldn't shake the memory of his reaction.<p>

A caretaker. Not parents.

I could easily understand his sensitivity, and I knew my best bet was to back off and let it go. It had been clear any mentions of the topic were not going to be appreciated. But this revelation only made me want Sai more. It explained much about his attitude while arising yet more questions and a burning need inside me to love him unconditionally. There were times I worried about whether I was obsessing over him, but never enough to deter me.

I finally went to one of the only people I trusted with my problem.

"If you liked someone…loved someone, Mr. Hatake…" I asked one day, breaking the silence of our usual lunch in his empty classroom. "What would you do about it?"

He looked up at me from his book, eyes watching me carefully, and for a long moment, he was quiet. Then, he smiled, in a way of his that makes his eyes crinkle.

"This wouldn't happen to be about a particular classmate of yours, would it?" he asked, ever so slyly. I blushed brightly and evaded his gaze as best I could, making Kakashi chuckle. With all those books he reads, I shouldn't have been surprised he'd noticed. Teachers are the eyes of every school after all. "Well, personally, I would simply tell them. Show them. And hope for them to love me back. In your case, however, you may have to be very blunt. Sai is a smart young man, but he's rather oblivious to things of this sort."

"Oh, I know," I laughed, unable to help it. I paused, debating on whether I wanted to ask my next question or not. I did. "Do you think I even had a chance, Mr. Hatake? Honestly?"

I knew even then that my question was unfair and hard for him, as my teacher, to answer. But I asked anyway, out of selfishness and anxiety. He sighed, though, and set his book down for me, to give me his attention undivided.

"Sakura, you're a beautiful young woman," he said, surprising me with his forwardness. "You're smart, strong-willed, and kind. If anyone can get through to Sai, I believe you can."

His words made me cry.

They just made me so damn happy.

* * *

><p>The next day, I finished up my sketch of Sai. It was pretty good, considering I wasn't really even a fan of art. When I showed it to Sai, biting my lip in the hope he would approve, he tilted his head and nodded.<p>

"You're good with realism," he commended, making me beam. I swear to this day I saw him smile back, even if it was just a tiny twitch of his lips. "I think you'll have a more difficult time with abstract."

"Ugh, probably," I agreed, taking another long look at my sketch. It was really quite beautiful. I had gotten the soft curves and sharp angles of his face just right. His body, sitting back on the couch, chin propped up by his palm, elbow on the arm rest, and legs crossed delicately. I closed my sketchbook, watching as he settled down to begin his next painting. "Why don't we do something else?"

He blinked at me.

"Something else?" he repeated, leaning back on his hands. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know…" I muttered, losing my confidence instantly. "Just hang out. Do something besides homework."

The proceeding silence was the worst five seconds of my life. It was like being left in the dark, not knowing what Sai was going to say or do next.

"Something…like what?" he finally asked, looking mildly curious. Yet another emotion!

I was getting pretty good at this.

* * *

><p>We found ourselves in a small coffee shop not far from Sai's house, a place that exuded the spirit of a young artist in every way a coffee shop could. We ordered and sat, in a small corner surrounded by bookshelves, unlit and smelling of aged paper and leather. There was a soft hum in the air, of whispers and murmurs, all hushed as though every word was a secret and the whole world was trying to listen in.<p>

From the way he ordered, Sai looked every bit the stereotypical artist, a master of all things coffee. Quick, smooth, confident. It sounded so damn cool when he said it. I ordered something that was easy to pronounce and sounded sweet, with tons of caramel and whipped cream. And then Sai offered to pay.

"W-what?" I stuttered, my heart fluttering as if trying to escape. "You don't have to do that!"

He looked down at me, fingers in his wallet, eyes - for once - full of something other than black ink. And he smiled a smile I had only imagined could be so stunning - so real.

"Aren't I supposed to?" he murmured, low and thick, like dark chocolate, bitter and sweet, melting on my tongue.

The look was gone in an instant, but my burning cheeks and failing heart told me I hadn't imagined it. I hushed up, let him pay, and followed him silently to the table in the corner.

"So, may I ask you a question today?" he asked, drumming his fingers against his cup.

"Um…yeah, of course," I breathed, poking at the mound of whipped cream swirling out of my coffee, gathering up the fluffy white treat onto the end of my finger. I always eat all the whipped cream first. Or the icing on cupcakes. Or the cream filling out of a Twinkie. It just seems right.

"Why are you so interested in me if you think I'm an ass?"

I froze, finger in my mouth. My face was frighteningly hot.

"It's just strange that you point out my bad qualities, but you're always asking me about myself and watching me in class when you think I'm not paying attention," he continued, touching his lips to his coffee. "There's a reason for this, isn't there?"

The entire time he spoke, his voice remained monotone, his expression blank. It was such an embarrassing confrontation, and yet, he looked completely uninterested in everything he was saying.

I wanted to cry I was so humiliated.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, putting my hands in my lap and turning my head down. "I didn't know I was being so obvious."

"There's no reason to apologize," Sai said, catching me, again, off guard. I stared at him through half-formed tears. "I was only asking why."

"Oh…"

Here, I recognized my options. I would have loved to have blown it off as nothing, but that was a bit impossible at this point. Or impossible in general, considering I was me - apathy was not in my nature. I almost responded meanly, pretended to lose my temper, tell him to forget it. I could have changed the subject. Or simply stood up and left.

But I remembered Kakashi's advice. And I thought, well, what the hell did I have to lose? He'd already called me stupid and ugly. There wasn't much left to hurt me with.

"I just like you," I told him, confidently licking up another scoop of whipped cream. It was slowly melting, leaving swirls of white in the caramel-colored liquid.

"But you called me an ass," he argued, tilting his head, confused again.

"Yeah, you are, but I like you anyway," I said firmly, now determined. I felt…powerful for telling him. Sai was my first confession since middle school. "You're different. Talented, unique, and smart. Good-looking. And mysterious. I want to figure you out."

I felt like I had more to say, but I wasn't sure at the time how to put it un words without sounding creepy. I wasn't confident enough to look him in the eye as I said all this, but when I felt him lean across the table, I lifted my gaze. He was staring right into me, reading me, studying me. I felt hot under his gaze. It's an intense one, an expression that jolts me even now.

"You like me?" he suddenly asked, as if he had never fathomed the thought before.

"Yes," I breathed, trying not to tremble. "I like you a lot, actually.

"How much?" he inquired, and I can recall now how hard he was thinking. He was enraptured by this revelation. At the time, however, all I registered was how sexy he was when his voice dropped that low.

Then it occurred to me I had been asked a question. One I had no clue how to answer. To tell the truth, I had a strong urge to kiss him in reply. But Sai struck me as the type who would hit a girl just because she pissed him off. He doesn't exactly scream chivalry. So, instead, I shrugged, opened my mouth, and let the words fall onto the table.

"Enough to love you one day."

* * *

><p>And that was that. My confession to Sai, possibly the most embarrassing moment of my life, and the beginning of a new relationship with Sai - all rolled into one.<p>

We didn't start dating exactly - Sai simply seemed to…well…feel more interested in my particular existence. He was suddenly more open to talking with me at school, walking with me to my classes, and being overall more…friendly. He still acted with the same indifference toward others. Cold, aloof. A basic ass. But with me, he changed. His smile even warmed up, to the point I actually began to believe it. Sometimes, it made me feel normal. Little old me finally had a normal friend.

Except he wasn't normal. He was awkward.

Constantly fighting for the right words, rushing to make gestures he normally wouldn't have, thinking hard over the smallest decisions. He wasn't smooth or dark anymore - at least not as much as he used to be. It was simply odd. Awkward. And a bit adorable at times.

I finally figured out what was going on when I caught him in the library, checking out a ton of social etiquette and psychology books. I didn't comment about it, but waited until we were at his house again. He was working on his abstract painting now, almost done, he claimed. The second he slipped out to use the bathroom, I began to snoop.

His bag was full of them. Books about interacting with people, on making friends, human behavior, manners, relationships. I was blown away. For the past week, Sai had been awkward, but alive - like there was an actual person in there. What I had said…had I inspired him to read those books?

Yes, indeed. I was still sitting amongst the piles of books when Sai came back, and I didn't bother delaying my confrontation. I wasn't so intimidated by him anymore. I was more comfortable…more myself… The self I hadn't been in ages.

"Is this why you've been acting so weird?" I asked, holding up a book and raising an eyebrow at him. He stood in the doorway, wide-eyed, but knowing denial was pointless. I didn't say anything, even as the silence drew out. I waited for his reply.

"I'm trying to not be…an ass," he finally explained, with such seriousness, I burst out laughing. This confused Sai further. "How is….that…"

"Oh, it isn't funny! I'm sorry!" I said, quite sincerely. Still grinning, I stood up and crossed over the room to where he stood. "It's actually very sweet…"

I hugged him, wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him close. I could tell he was surprised, because he froze, stood still without knowing what to do. I smiled softly.

"You're supposed to hug me back," I whispered to him, feeling him shiver involuntarily.

For a second, it was awkward again. But then, very hesitantly, he lifted his arms and set them around my waist. And after taking in a breath, he pulled me closer to him and buried his face deeply into my neck. I had never felt more warm.

* * *

><p>Not feeling things was easy for Sai. He'd grow up with no parents and his legal guardian had never even played the role. Sai even called him by his first name: Danzo.<p>

"He's always taken care of me," Sai explained as he painted. This time, he didn't need me completely still. He just needed to see me. I was still trying to tackle the whole abstract thing myself. "Food, shelter, education. I can't complain."

"But he's never been affectionate," I concluded, saying what Sai wouldn't. "Has he loved you?"

"No one has," Sai replied. My heart broke at the thought. "I was isolated from most people when I was younger. He home schooled me and never much let me wander from the house. So I never needed to feel anything for anyone. It was easier, when I was younger, to tell myself I didn't care about anything. Eventually, my apathy became real. I just kept to myself. Breezed through life. But then _you _kept paying attention to me. Making me _feel_. Making me…want to care."

And that's how it happened. I never would have figured someone as cool and collected as Sai was really so insecure. But thinking on it now, it makes sense. Nobody ever never cares. It's either an act or a defense mechanism. For Sai, he'd never lived any other way. He was taught, by influence and experience, that emotions weren't important. They were driven out of him when he was a little boy. He hadn't done it purposely. It was a psychological result of a bad childhood. And I took it upon myself to guide Sai back to his senses.

We started hanging out aside from homework even more. We took walks, went out to eat, watched movies, ate lunch together in the cafeteria - I had to cancel with Kakashi.

More and more, Sai began to smile and laugh. The rest of the school stopped mattering. It was just me and Sai, my first real friend in years. My only friend. And my nurturing techniques were working. He still got mixed up sometimes and did silly, awkward things in his attempts to be a feeling, caring person. It was cute.

Eventually…well, I started considering him my best friend.

"How did you do abstract if you never felt anything?" I snapped, growing frustrated with my attempts - again. He just smiled at me, a real smile that I loved.

"I merely built up a series of objects or patterns that had close relationships to the image I was portraying," he said, shrugging. Like it was easy.

"Can't I see your abstract painting of me?" I whined, crumbling up yet another page from my sketchbook.

"No, not until all three are done," he told me. For the millionth time. "It's a series. You see all three at the same time."

"That's dumb," I muttered bitterly, but continued thinking. It was only after a bit more scribbling I really began to think about Sai's advice.

I took a good look at Sai. He was black and white all over, void of color. I gave this concept a good deal of thought. Black and white… black and white…

Those ink eyes on marble skin.

Ink. On white.

Paper.

Easy enough.

I set about it, using my pencil to trace out his eyes, taking extra care to make sure they were perfectly his. Just as round, just as shiny and black. Just as dark and perfectly lashed. Those eyes, which were impossible to read and all the while hypnotizing. Stunning. I barely even looked up to compare them to Sai's. I already knew them so well.

It didn't take me very long. We stayed seated and silent, drawing and painting away until the sun was far below the horizon and we were wrapped in our very own bubble of light. It wasn't until Sai placed a hand on my shoulder that I glanced up and realized how late it was. I blinked at him in surprise before looking back down at my masterpiece. There was no mistaking those eyes were his.

"You drew my eyes?" he inquired, looking mildly impressed. Before I could get excited, however, he smiled and said gently, "It's still realism, though. This isn't abstract at all."

I looked at the eyes, how detailed and precise they were.

"Damn it!" I cursed, tossing my sketchbook and pencil aside. I ignored Sai's chuckle, even if I did want to gush over hearing it. "This is hopeless!"

"I don't understand," Sai tilting his head at me. "You claim to be able to feel so much more than me. You cry about everything. Abstract, artists say, is simply about what you feel. Why can't you put all those emotions on paper?"

"Emotions on paper?" I repeated, feeling slightly skeptical. Sai was right. I was an emotional mess. I cried when I was happy, sad, angry, inspired, confused - tears were my outlet, my natural, instinctive way of expressing emotion. "I am emotional… I just don't know how to express it through an image. It always comes out in tears."

He stared at me, and I remember that expression so vividly, I could copy it in a heartbeat, sketch and shade it within moments. This was more than Sai's usual thinking face.

He was making a decision.

"How do I make you feel?" he asked, very quietly, yet not without power. Before I knew it, he was inching closer to me, and the room suddenly seemed so very small. "The sketch is an abstract portrait of me… What…do I make…you feel?"

By the end of his last sentence, he was whispering, and had gotten so close I couldn't breath, let alone speak. Face flushed, nerves trembling, I let him get closer and closer, until I could feel his eyelashes flutter against mine, taste his warm breath in my mouth, trace the line of his nose with my own.

When he kissed me, I had to grab a hold of him. I would have fallen over if I hadn't. I gripped his jacket and pressed my lips to his in earnest. I had wanted that kiss for months. I couldn't restrain myself from pulling in.

He didn't seem very surprised, but instead reached for my waist and held me to him, fastening his lips to my mouth in a way that left me breathless and bursting with new desire. My previous thirst for Sai was nothing compared to what I now felt, as he held me as desperately as I held him, as we clung to each other, opened ourselves up for the other to truly feel. I felt so vulnerable and naked, and I thrived in knowing that Sai could feel and see and taste me this way - I loved it. And loved that I could feel and see and taste him as well in all the ways I had been dreaming of since the moment I saw him drawing my face.

Did I already love him?

"Sai!"

We jerked apart so quick, the momentum knocked me over backward. I grunted in both surprise and pain as my back hit the floor. Wincing, I opened my eyes through the ache as books dug into my skin. There Sai was, kneeling on one knee as if he was going to spring to his feet at any second, his eyes wider than I'd yet seen them.

And standing above us both was Danzo.

Of course, then I only saw a frightening, thin old man with a hunched back and a scarred face. I nearly let out a shout, he scared me so badly. But I was silenced by his glare, disapproving and judgmental, and directed right at me. There's no telling how long that glare lasted, that uncomfortable tension between us both. For however long it did though, it was a moment in which all I saw was that man and his glare. Nothing else. And it lasted forever.

When he suddenly turned his beady black eyes toward Sai, whatever had just passed between the two of us simply vanished. It stayed with me, though, and I think now Danzo had been telling me something. Or, more appropriately, warning me.

"Sai, what is going on here?" Danzo growled, his voice a low, bitter grumble against the smooth silence of the white living room.

"We were just doing homework, Danzo," Sai said, sounding flustered as he gestured hurriedly to the mess of paints and paper surrounding us. "That's all."

"Homework?" Danzo scoffed, snorting out a skeptical laugh and thumping his cane against the tarp-covered carpet. "Which one of your teachers is showing you how to stick your tongue down her throat, hm?"

"Danzo, I-"

"Don't bother," Danzo sneered, and shot me another heavy glare. He lifted his cane, and with it gestured so obviously at me, I felt the lump in my throat drop like a stone in my stomach. "Just clean this up."

Sai was silent, staring up at Danzo, mouth trembling as he fought for words to respond. Finally, though, as the elder limped his way down the hall, Sai bowed his head in deflation.

"Yes, sir."

* * *

><p>After that, things really sucked. Our project was due in a matter of just a couple of weeks, and Sai avoided me like I was a leper. Whenever I managed to catch him alone, he either ignored me or treated me with the same indifference as before. It was as if Danzo had flipped a switch, pressed a reset button. All my work had vanished. The warm, awkward, amazing person Sai had become was gone again, hidden away by this fake shell. I had lost my best friend.<p>

Just like that.

Of course, this sent me into an emotional mess. The day after I met Danzo, at school, I ended up running right out of class to go cry in the bathroom for nearly the entire period. Nobody came to check on me.

I ate lunch with Kakashi.

As days went by, I began to steel myself. Crying wasn't something I could necessarily prevent myself from doing, but it wasn't helping anyone either. I had to make a decision: try again or give up.

Normally, a couple months ago, I would have just let it go. Why would Sai like me anyway? I was better off alone, always had been.

But now I didn't believe that. I had helped Sai find his smile, his laugh, his heart. We had had fun together. I loved him - and I had seen him begin to love me back. There was no way I could let go of him. I just had a new suit of armor to tear away.

I started at home, tucked away in my basement with a brand new canvas and freshly bought black paint. I didn't bother with shapes or angles at all. I just grabbed a gob of paint and flung it onto the canvas - I didn't even think about it. It splattered across the white, running and dripping onto the newspaper I had carefully laid down. I dipped in my fingers again and threw some more. And more. I got into it, too. Within minutes, I had something to work with.

Taking just my index and middle fingers, I carried lines in the still-wet paint. I drew dips and curves, arches and dives, until I finally had, within the unorganized chaos of the black paint splatters, a pair of beautiful ink-black eyes that lacked anything but emotion. Those eyes were intense, willful, scarred. They were his eyes. And anyone would be able to tell, even if they weren't perfectly detailed, perfectly shaded.

They were _just _perfect.

I felt good once it was finished. In fact, I felt great. It was like crying, except better. All my pain and anger had been released, and I felt refreshed, but this time, my emotional breakdown had actually created something.

And once it was finished, I went to Sai's house.

Granted, I didn't have a car at the time. So I threw the canvas under my arm, slung my bag over my shoulder, and began to walk. Wearing an old pair of sneakers, I hiked my way out of my neighborhood and down the highway. Sai's house was about ten miles from mine, but I had to see him. And I would, damn it.

After about an hour, however, and the sun's light was beginning to diminish, a silver Mazda pulled over right in front of me. Naturally, my first thought was to run - a girl can never be too careful nowadays - but no sooner had the thought crossed my mind than Kakashi popped his fluffy head out his window, with a wave and grin that made his eyes crinkle around the edges.

"Yo."

* * *

><p>"You love him that much, huh?" he commented, sighing in that way adults do when dealing with the many dramatic woes of a teen.<p>

"I know you think it's silly," I said, playing with the meal he'd bought me at a diner just near Sai's house - he'd taken me there because he was "concerned" and wanted to "talk things over". So I had explained everything. "I know I'm only seventeen. And I know I've only known him for so long. But I feel more for him than anything I've ever experienced so far in my life, and I think that makes it worth it. I need someone, Mr. Hatake. And I think he needs me."

For a good while, he was silent, pondering what I had said or perhaps thinking of the right reply. He fingered the mug of coffee he'd gotten for himself. Finally, he spoke.

"I had no intention of undermining your feelings, Sakura," he said, softly, gazing at me affectionately. "I understand that love is not limited to a certain age group. I know what you feel is genuine. In fact, I'm very proud of you for not giving up on him."

"You are?" I asked, twirling a French fry in ketchup. I was surprised and not at the same time.

"I am," he said, smiling at me in such a way that I had to smile back. His face darkened soon after, though. "But I need to tell you something about Sai, Sakura. Or more accurately, Danzo."

"What about him?" I asked quietly, wide-eyed. Kakashi sighed and sat back, as if not certain whether to continue or not.

"I met Danzo when I was much younger," he said, finally, and I watched as his eyes traveled to the past, to secrets not his to tell. "He used to be a teacher at Konoha. I was actually a student there when I first met him. He was always complaining about new policies or talking about how he would run the school. He hated contemporary methods, wanted everything to go back to the old-fashioned ways. He had a terrible desire for power and control. Students and parents, even some teachers, found his methods too conservative, too harsh. But there were laws protecting his job as long as he didn't step too far out of line. He stayed at that school for a long time."

"What does this have to do with Sai?" I asked, raising an eyebrow hesitantly, very still. The look on Kakashi's face was frighteningly solemn.

"Well, one day, Danzo and Hiruzen, the former principal and Danzo's childhood friend as I take it, received word that a mutually close friend from high school had died tragically alongside his wife in a car accident. Having been made the godparents, they were given the little baby son that was left behind. There were no other suitable guardians. Of course, Hiruzen immediately stepped up to this. He was a kind man, always putting others before himself. But this made Danzo feel inferior. He was always competing with Hiruzen, and to feel more important, he insisted that _he_ take the child. Thus, a battle ensued. The battle for custody conflicted with the way the school ran. Hiruzen hated being unprofessional - he loved his job and his school - but he truly believed Danzo was unfit to a be a father. And Danzo refused to give up to his rival."

"The baby was Sai," I clarified, almost to myself. "Danzo won?"

"No," Kakashi said. "Hiruzen won the custody battle."

"Wait! Then why-"

"Let me explain," he commanded, holding up a hand to silence me. "You see, Hiruzen winning drove Danzo mad. He literally lost his mind for a good while. His behavior was more extreme than ever. Eventually, he took violent measures one day in class after becoming frustrated with a student. He finally lost his job because of this incident."

Kakashi was quiet a moment, his eyes suddenly muted, sad. I let out a deep breath.

"Did he blame Hiruzen for it?" I guessed, my hands trembling. He nodded, still somewhere far back in his mind. "What happened? Why is Danzo in charge of Sai now?"

"Hiruzen died."

"What?" I finally stuttered, recovering from my shock. Honestly, I think I'm an idiot for not seeing that coming. "Why? How?"

"Officially, his cause of death was by a stroke," Kakashi answered, sitting up to drink from his mug for the first time. He grimaced at it and pushed it away - I'm guessing it had gotten cold.

"But you don't believe that."

"No, I don't," he said gravely, giving me a hard look. "And I probably shouldn't be telling you this. But Hiruzen was found dead in his office the day after Danzo was fired."

"He killed Hiruzen just to get Sai?" I exclaimed as quietly as I could. My heart felt like it was being squeezed to pieces. "That's evil!"

"As I see it, Sai was the catalyst that drove Danzo's rivalry into hatred," Kakashi sighed. "It drove him so mad, he lost everything he'd ever worked for in his life. But more importantly than his job, Danzo lost his best friend, the person who had been like a brother to him since infancy. And, inevitably, he put the blame for Hiruzen's death in the hands of the boy he was now charged with."

"He hates him," I concluded, watching Kakashi nod slowly in confirmation. "Danzo thinks it's all Sai's fault, so he hates Sai for it all. He makes Sai miserable for it."

"Sai has never known love in his life," he told me seriously. "Danzo won't give Sai up for two reasons. One is because Sai is his trophy. And the second is that he refuses to let Hiruzen's death be in vain. Sai, as far as Danzo is concerned, shall suffer as long as he lives. To live a life unfeeling, unloved. Danzo wants that. And you, Sakura, are threatening that."

I realized then why Kakashi had wanted to talk.

"You think he would hurt me too?" I asked, entirely disbelieving. The thought of it brought the horror of his story to life. It was the classic ignorance of every normal person on Earth: "That would never happen to me." But now, I was being told not only could it happen, but that it would.

"Danzo is not a mentally sound man," Kakashi warned me, and then softened his tone as he reached across the table to touch my hand. "Sakura, I need you to be very careful. Please, for me at least, don't do anything drastic."

I sank back in my seat, discouraged. My chest felt so tight. I needed to let this pressure out. The next breath I released was shaky.

"Sai needs me," I breathed, nodding as I continued, knowing as I spoke that the decision was right. "I can't be the one to give up on him."

Kakashi smiled lightly.

"Well okay then."

* * *

><p>Kakashi took me to Sai's house for me, promising to wait in the driveway until I was finished with my business. It was impossible to argue with him. Like my loyalty to Sai, he refused to abandon me. I had to respect his wishes for that. My heart heaved as I carried myself to Sai's door. I watched my hand hit the door - once, twice, three times.<p>

A muted pause gave me time to breath, and then he opened the front door.

"You," Danzo scoffed, a harsh, abrupt laugh that made me take a step back. Any humor melted from his face, replaced by a scowl. "You aren't welcome here, girl. Sai doesn't have time for you."

"I'm not afraid of you," I blurted, as he turned, began to shut the door. He stopped where he was. "If you didn't want anyone to love him, you shouldn't have set him free. But it's too late. You aren't going to win this."

"I have no intention of this becoming a battle," Danzo growled, his grip on the doorknob tight, his face half-cast with shadows. "You have no idea who you're challenging."

"But I do, Danzo," I breathed. The world was very still for a moment. "I know very well who you are."

"I'd be careful with your accusations," Danzo hissed, leaning my way so the brilliance of the evening light threw terrible shadows across his face.

"Or you'll kill me?" I whispered.

But I knew he heard me. It was all in his expression, how it twisted into something evil. I knew, only having seen Danzo twice at that point, that Kakashi's story was the truth. I needed to get Sai out of there. That much was abundantly clear to me now.

"You can't have him forever," I warned him, taking my first few steps backward. "Eventually, he's going to break away from you."

"You little bitch!" he snarled, lunging at me so quick, I had to stumble away in order to avoid his clawing hands. His cane clattered to the concrete porch, my own feet tripping beneath me.

"Sakura!"

It was like a surrounded sound echo of my name. In a couple moments, I would realize it was partly because of Kakashi, who had been watching protectively from his car in the driveway. He was already rushing toward me, ready to steady me and help me stand my ground. But I wasn't paying attention to Kakashi.

My eyes were on Sai.

"Get back inside!" Danzo growled, whirling back onto Sai, who stood in the doorway, face full of so much emotion. So much Danzo couldn't stop. He was already faltering. "Sai!"

"Sakura…" Sai murmured again, this time so softly, I felt the affection in it caressing my face.

"I finally finished my abstract portrait of you," I said, just for him. I felt Kakashi approaching from behind, saw Danzo struggling to grab his walking stick. "I think you'd be really proud of it."

"Of you," he amended, a faint smile ghosting his mouth. My heart thumped hard. My chest, my ribs, were all sore. Water swelled in my eyes.

"Sai, I forbid you from seeing this girl," Danzo spat, his gaze torn between the two of us. Sai turned to him, with that blank look, considered him a moment, and then frowned.

"I'm eighteen, Danzo," Sai reminded him - though this was news to me. "You can't forbid me to do anything."

"You're eighteen?" I blurted, which, thankfully went unnoticed for the most part.

"You have no one else to go to," Danzo growled, shuffling forward to try to push Sai inside. But Sai was tall and lean and strong compared to Danzo's frail, hunched figure. Sai didn't even budge. He just stared at Danzo, brow knit. He looked almost confused. "Let's just go, Sai."

"Stop clinging to the past, Danzo," Kakashi suddenly spoke up, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "And even if you can't move on, don't hold Sai back, too. The boy did nothing wrong."

"As if you could understand, Kakashi Hatake," Danzo sneered, something bitterly personal dripping from his tongue. "This boy ruined everything!"

"He was a baby!" I protested, louder than I figured it'd come out. Sai was the only one who looked surprised, though. I think it was that moment his confusion registered to me. I took a step back, shocked. "He doesn't even know…"

"Shut up!" Danzo snapped, lurching dangerously close again. Kakashi immediately jumped in front of me, and Sai was stepping forward as well.

"Know what?" Sai questioned, grabbing Danzo's shoulder and looking anxiously between the three of us. But Danzo's glower wouldn't leave my gaze.

"The reason why you're living with this monster," I said quietly, my voice trembling as the remaining evening light shifted the shadows of the lingering light on our faces. "What he did to make sure he could make your life hell."

"I am warning you," Danzo breathed heavily, looking all the world like he'd just run a triathlon. Sweating, veins bulging, chest heaving, this man no longer frightened me.

And that's when it clicked. Hell, why should I have been afraid of anyone? I had spent so long fearing my peers because of their nasty words and nice cars. I had been so concerned about belonging, about…what was so infinitely trivial. I was standing in front of a man insane enough to murder his best friend. The same man who imprisoned and tortured an innocent young boy practically since birth. What the hell made me so timid? Today, I just couldn't be. There were things too important in life.

"Sai, Danzo isn't supposed to be your guardian," I said, clenching my fists and narrowing my eyes. "Hiruzen Sarutobi is. But Danzo kill-"

"_No!_" he roared, his screams nearly incoherent as he launched himself off the porch at me.

In turn, I let out a startled shriek myself, crying out when Danzo's twisted fingers managed to snare in my hair. When Kakashi yanked Danzo away, I felt hair rip from my head. I stumbled, clutching my head in pain. When I looked up, Kakashi had tossed Danzo to the floor and Sai was rushing forward.

But as Sai dashed past Danzo, I saw that ugly, gnarled face morph into something so horrendous, I'm sure my heart stopped. There was a flash of silver as Danzo whipped something out of his sleeve, and then again as he twisted around and plunged it straight into Sai's exposed abdomen.

The sound of blood pulsing outside the body, Kakashi's desperate cry. Danzo falling to the ground, body wracked with either sobs or cackles, I couldn't tell. That look of betrayal, of shock, of pain, on Sai's beautifully innocent face. The brilliant scarlet that dribbled from his pale white lips, his lean grayish stomach as he came tripping to a stop, and collapsed to his knees.

My tears didn't cut it that time.

I screamed.

* * *

><p>The next few minutes were a blur. I flung myself to Sai's side, trying to catch him in my arms despite the awkward angle of his fall. Sobs blurred my vision, dripping incessantly onto Sai's face as I cradled him close to me. Somehow, I got him straightened out , and as I held him, his body jerked and stilled at random against me. Blood continued to drain from both the wound in his stomach and his mouth, but his eyes managed to stay open. As hard as he fought, his trembling hands gripping me tightly, his lungs gasping for breath, he kept his gaze locked in mine.<p>

We stayed like this for a time both mercifully short and terrifyingly long. I didn't even notice the sirens, the flashing lights, until hands were gently prying Sai away from me. Taken off guard, I nearly went into hysterics, struggling desperately to stay by Sai's side. When I saw him reach for me, too drained to move anything else, face scrunched in pain as the paramedics lifted him onto the gurney - I nearly lost it. I couldn't leave him. I couldn't abandon him. I couldn't lose him.

It was Kakashi who helped me regain my senses. He held me still as I cried into his chest, stroked my hair and told me everything would be fine. I didn't believe him, but it did calm me down enough to convince the medics I didn't need treatment, too.

Sai's wound was serious. I wouldn't be allowed in the ambulance with him. After some futile arguing, Kakashi roped me into his car, agreeing selflessly to take me to hospital himself. Seriously.

Best teacher ever.

While I had been clinging to Sai, Kakashi had witnessed Danzo go into a fit of seizures, which we later learned was brought on by a bad combination of unhealthy living, age, and the peak in stress I had caused. Kakashi had been the one to immediately call 911. I felt retarded for not having done so myself.

Once we reached the hospital, we were directed to a waiting room and Mr. Hatake had me call my parents. Explaining the situation to them was weird. We weren't super close, but I'd mentioned Sai before - I guess the graveness of the situation would have been really random. I must say, they reacted pretty well. They arrived within minutes, and after some brief panic and explanation, the four of us waited together for news.

* * *

><p>Kakashi woke me up hours later. He had managed to convince my parents to let me stay despite it being a Wednesday, despite the fact that they inevitably had to leave. I wasn't upset when Kakashi told me they had gone home - I knew they had work, and they didn't even know Sai. I was just grateful they'd let me stay.<p>

"So…is Sai okay?" I asked sleepily, rubbing my eyes clean. The hysteria was gone. I was thinking practically again, thank god.

"The doctors said he'll be fine," Kakashi assured me, giving me that familiar crinkled-eyed smile. He sat down beside me, placing a hand on my back. "They also said you can go see him in just a minute. The bathroom is down the hall if you want to clean up real quick."

"Gee, thanks," I teased, nudging him, still yawning. "Trying to tell me something?"

"Yes," he responded good-naturedly, perking me up a bit at the light tone. "Yes, in fact, I am."

At this, I just laughed, stood, and took his advice despite my mock insult. The bathroom was as white as the rest of the hospital. Bland and cold and sterile, raising goosebumps on my arms and making me want to find some source of warmth to cuddle up to.

When I looked in the mirror, though, I was surprised to find Kakashi had been telling the truth. I was just covered in blood. My arms, neck, clothes, even on my face and in my hair. My hands didn't show a speck of skin.

The first thing I felt was embarrassment, and then annoyance that nobody had bothered to tell me earlier. I figured everyone had just been too freaked out, or maybe they, like Kakashi, had tried to let me know tactfully and I'd just been too dumb to realize. Then again, at times like these, my stunning good looks weren't exactly a priority.

As I began to wash it off, though I couldn't help but stare at my reflection, my hands. The red would smear at the tips of my fingers, and run at the touch of water, swirling down the sink until finally all that was left was white. I kept the water on, splashing it in my face and running it through my hair. I rubbed off what remained of my smeared makeup, leaving my face raw and fresh, foreign to me. I didn't look terrible this way, but I felt a bit odd. But then my uncomfortable feelings settled. It was just Sai. I wanted Sai to see me.

* * *

><p>As soon as he saw me, he blessed me with his beautiful smile. Tearing up already, I rushed to his side and threw my arms around him. He grunted softly in pain, but he was clutching me just as tightly, holding me so flush to his body, I soon had trouble breathing myself.<p>

"I'm sorry," he whispered, warm breath pressing to my ear. I felt his lips nuzzling the side of my face as he inhaled shakily, tightening his grip as though he was afraid to let go. "I'm so sorry, Sakura."

"You idiot, why are you apologizing?" I laughed through my tears. I pulled away to set my forehead against his, brushing at his face with my hands. I laughed again, crying even harder, when I realized I was wiping away tears. "Silly boy, you're crying. Who knew you had it in you?"

"You," he breathed, threading his fingers into my hair, eyes glistening brilliantly. "You knew. And you didn't give up on me, even when I did. I'm so sorry for that."

"And I'm sorry for nearly getting you killed," I chuckled, watching conflict arise in his eyes at the mention of it. "You still don't know, do you?"

"No, Mr. Hatake told me before he went to get you," he said, his voice's enthusiasm diminishing. His face was drawn in, contemplative and unsure. "I never knew… I never knew my being an orphan caused so much grief."

"Please don't tell me you're blaming yourself," I sighed, deflating against him. I could feel him everywhere we touched. It was like merging with a long lost part of me.

"Of course not," he assured me, lips upturned gently. "It's just a little unsettling. I thought all my life that Danzo treated me coldly because that was simply how people treated each other. Now I know it's because he's despised me all this time."

"I kind of can't believe it either," I admitted, sighing as I rested my head in the crook of his neck. "I seems too surreal. Too dramatic."

"Huh…" was all he replied with, looking down at me fondly, eyes gleaming. "Since I'm eighteen, social services won't get involved, at least. Mr. Hatake offered to have me stay with him until I graduate and figure out what I want to end up doing."

"You aren't going to college?" I asked, surprised that I was surprised. "And that reminds me! You never told me you were eighteen!"

"Is that a big deal?" Sai asked, looking quite genuinely bewildered. I sighed, fiddling with the bed sheets. "I would have told you if I'd known it was."

"No, I'm sorry," I said, shaking my head. "I guess it just shocked me because I found out after I learned about Danzo. I mean, why would you stay there if you legally didn't have to?"

"Sakura, I had nowhere to go," Sai said, voice very intent, intense. "Besides, my thoughts about leaving were more spawned by the curiosity of never knowing what was beyond that house. Living with him wasn't awful. He didn't hurt me or anything. He was just…cold and distant. I never had much of a television or internet access. I thought it was normal. I thought I already explained this to you."

"Okay! Sorry!" I pouted, trying to remind myself that Sai had grown up thinking an emotionless family was normal. No color, no love. He suddenly smiled.

"I did take advantage of turning eighteen, though," he beamed proudly all of a sudden. I had to giggle at the adorable expression on his face. "It's how I convinced him to enroll me in public school."

"Clever," I noted, rather impressed. "You cared that much?"

"The older I got, the more curious I became," Sai said, tilting his head in thought. "So I told him I was enrolling, because I was eighteen and would have otherwise left. I was surprised he agreed. I figured he wouldn't care if I left. He never cared about anything I did."

"That's so sad," I lamented, studying Sai's face quietly. So pure, so innocent. He knew nothing of the real world, yet had suffered so greatly. "Well…are you feeling better at least?"

His lips curled up, eyes distinctively thoughtful as he raised a hand to touch my hair, caressing the curve of my cheek. For a moment, he stared into my eyes, and then in all gentleness, he pulled me to him, long fingers sliding along my scalp and into my roots. That kiss made my legs tremble, made my hair stand on end, squeezed my heart so tight, when the pressure realized, I gasped into his mouth. I felt his smile grow wider, and he lifted his lips from mine just a moment.

"I'm absolutely amazing."

* * *

><p>Not a magnificent story, but that's how it happened. How I made a friend, saved a life, and grew up more than I ever have in a single time period - in just a few months. Danzo, almost sadly, passed away that night - his heart, ironically, unable to take the trauma any longer - and with him gone, I can look back on it now and thank heavens our struggle with him was quickly resolved. At the moment, I had felt so cornered and vulnerable, but my determination pushed us through it. Who knows how long the battle would have lasted if I hadn't confronted Danzo that night. We ended up lucky it happened, it ended, so quickly.<p>

When I revealed these thoughts to Kakashi later, he just gave me that fatherly look of affection and told me knowingly, "Sometimes, it just takes a certain person."

Wars waged for years without hope for a solution, and then a single hero would come a put an end to the strife, no matter how big or small. Hercules. Persius. Beowulf. I don't compare myself to such magnificent heroes on a typical basis, now, but Kakashi's reference to the epic characters in our textbooks is a compliment I refuse to modestly brush from my mind. Nowadays, I let people compliment me, and remember it when they do. I, like every other person in the world, deserve to truly hear the good things people have to say to me, to feel good about myself.

My new self-confidence helped my relationship with Sai. I wasn't so concerned with my own esteem anymore, but focused my attention on nurturing Sai's heart, teaching him and guiding him. And just as I had never let him go, Sai was always there.

There when he taught me how to paint with traditional black ink to create his last portrait - a painting of him emerging from a shadowy spiral that my teacher fawned over. There when he revealed his own paintings, a series of gorgeous green and white and pink that I couldn't believe could possibly be me - he made me look like a goddess. There when I got my acceptance letter from my top-choice university. There for his first real Christmas and both of our first New Years kiss. There when my scholarships came in. There when we blew off prom to camp out in his back yard, lovingly supervised by his new caretaker, a man who went from being Mr. Hatake to Kakashi. There when we walked across stage and accepted our diplomas, when our families combined and we went out for a big celebratory dinner. There throughout the summer, spent laughing and painting and exploring our blossoming relationship. There when he adamantly decided he would come with me for the school year, told me he'd sleep outside if he had to - Kakashi arranged to rent an apartment near the campus with the money Sai inherited from Danzo, solely because the man had left no will and Sai received it by default. There when he made me cry, just a week before we left for college, because he said "I love you" first. There when I moved in, and over the years, through every success and every downfall, through long nights studying and Chinese takeout, through awful roommates and through every time I wanted to give up. There during our very first time.

He was there _for_ _me._

So now you know. How and why and whatever's in between. And I can know, without a doubt in my mind, that as soon as I finish typing this up, I'll turn around, and he'll be there. He'll be the first to read this, and then he'll tell me it's great with a loving kiss. And I know I'll be attending the art show later tomorrow evening, his big debut, and I'll be there from start to end and tell him how proud I am. Because nowadays…

That's what's important.

* * *

><p><strong>Yeah, I seriously don't know what the heck this is. But I had a Naruto Shippuden Marathon not too long ago, and just absolutely fell in love with Sai and his adorable awkwardness as he struggles to be normal - as I watched him and Sakura spend time together, I began to like the idea of them as a couple. I based this Sakura off of a more reserved, insecure person (such as the young Sakura we see in flashbacks, before Ino befriends and encourages her). I was a bit inspired, too, by the idea of someone entirely dependent on emotion getting together with someone completely void of them. <strong>

**But seriously? This story is a piece of crap. The more I read it, the more I hate it. It's rushed and dumb and makes no sense at all. And really rushed. Did I mention that? Ugh. But I have to post it, because something made me write it, and it just kind of popped out of me. So. I hope you enjoy it. But please don't review and tell me that it's rushed. Because, seriously, this could have been a chapter fic if I'd elaborated much more - I already know that. But still. Review if you insist. I'd appreciate it. **

**AnimeCountDown**


End file.
